


A Quiet Getaway

by SenjinSeadog



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Crushes, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:14:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25239064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SenjinSeadog/pseuds/SenjinSeadog
Summary: Lor'themar grows worried over his Warchief and offers him an opportunity to sneak away from his duties and relax. But when Vol'jin demands that the Regent Lord join him, will the two begin a loving bond, or is it just a fling between leaders?
Relationships: Lor'themar Theron / Vol'jin
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	A Quiet Getaway

**Author's Note:**

> This was started out to be a one shot, but I lost motivation and it ended in a place I feel I could come back to eventually to pad it out. Can't say when or if I'll come back to this but I guess I'll see what interest comes of it. (rated explicit because there were some steamy things planned later on)

Grommash Hold was business as usual as militant officials and diplomatic speakers rushed back and forth, crossing paths constantly as they tended to matters of war and economic issues. Further into the Hold and in the throne room, a small gathering was coming to an end. The tall form of the Darkspear leader, and now leader of the Horde itself, Vol’jin was slumped into the throne as he listened to yet another day of Sylvannas and Baine bicker about what to do next. Most of the other leaders could barely get a word in, Ji had all but given up trying to speak and Gallywix didn’t care unless it involved making a profit by any means. But it was much to Vol’jin’s gratitude that Lor’themar would step in and call for a stand down between the Banshee and Tauren.

“War can wait, Sylvannas,” he spoke in a cool and calm manner. “As it stands, we have more pressing matters in rebuilding our units and ensuring our people can keep living safely. Launching an attack so soon could be detrimental, would it not?” Vol’jin couldn’t help but feel a slight smirk tug at his lips as the Banshee Queen scowled at the Regent Lord. 

“As it stands, we focus on our people first.” All heads turned as Vol’jin finally spoke. “I will not dismiss the Alliance as a threat, but they have taken blows much like us. An attack while they recover would have us at the advantage,” his gaze landed upon the Forsaken leader, “If we were not as crippled as them. Attacking them would just weaken us more. That’s all we’ll have on this matter for the day. For now, we look to our people, and heal. You may all leave now.” As much as a few faces looked relieved such affairs were over, Sylvannas left in a quiet huff, her lapdog Nathanos hot on her heels, throwing a sneer at the Troll and Sin’dorei. One by one the leaders filed out, and sending out the guards as well, Vol’jin let out a sigh as he felt he was finally alone. Or so he thought.

“Work of a warchief is having its effects on you, hmm?” Vol’jin didn’t have to open his eyes. He knew all too well whose voice that was. But in this quiet it sounded much more pleasing to the ears. 

“When Thrall left me in charge, I knew the challenges that would face me. But I suspect that some are just trying to force me into an early retirement.” There came a small chuckle from Lor’themar as he ascended the steps to the throne. The troll’s eyes opened to see the elf standing next to him. It reminded him of the old days where he stood beside the former warchief. He offered Lor’themar a soft smile. “But at least I have friends to help make it worthwhile.”

“Well, ahem, we are all here to serve under your guidance.” The Regent Lord had a slight tinge to his cheeks. Something that didn’t go unnoticed by Vol’jin. “I know our time has been… limited for a while now. But the fact you would still consider me a friend…” Lor’themar’s eyes turned away from the gentle smile of the warchief. “Thank you, Vol’jin.”

“You always hold yourself in such a high and dignified manner. It’s cute seeing you let your guard down for once.” Was cute the best word to use here? Or was Vol’jin’s mind just fuddled from the long and weary days sitting in this room. He had begun to stare off into nothingness but as he came back to reality he caught the mere fraction of a rather bewildered looking elf. Lor’themar straightened himself up, looking more like himself than ever. “Apologies friend, it wasn’t my intention to insult your standing.”

“N… Not at all.” The elf insisted. And suddenly it was like all clues of his slip in character had vanished and he was once again the proud and noble Regent Lord. “I will say that seeing like this is concerning,” he began, kicking up a pace in front of the throne. Vol’jin simply continued to slump in his seat. “I understand that you’ve been here tending to your duties the last, let’s see, week? Was it?”

“Few weeks…” The troll spoke. The look upon his face told Lor’themar enough to understand that the warchief was suffering under all the sudden pressure. “Some days I don’t even leave this building. It’s always someone or something needing my audience or approval.” He let out a long drawn out sigh. “But that is the duty of the warchief.” He sounded defeated. Nothing like the proud troll that the elf had fought alongside. It was actually rather painful to see him like this. It was then decided that Lor’themar would have to step in and help his friend. Even if it would mean upsetting Sylvannas.

Oh who was he kidding? He would love nothing more than to piss her off.

“Vol’jin.” He stood in front of the troll in question. “I am hereby decreeing that you put your duties on a temporary hiatus and use that time to rest and gather yourself before returning to your position.” The warchief cocked a brow at the elf. “I’m serious, Vol’jin.” Still the troll just stared blankly.

“And how do you propose that I simply just drop everything without the others dragging me back onto this seat?” Vol’jin’s question did bring up a good point. His arms crossed his chest, and a hand came to tap on his chin. “Well… I don’t go telling just anyone about this. I have a private sanctuary hidden away in Eversong Woods. A small villa where I escape just to be rid of the troubles of the world for a day or two.” He smiled, he just knew this would be what he needed. “I’ll take you there and let you rest, and I’ll deal with anyone who tries to interfere.”

“Alright.”

“Now I won’t take no fo- wait did you agree? No arguing?” Admittedly he thought he would take at least five minutes of a back and forth with the leader. But just like that he said yes.

“On one condition.”

Shit.

“And that would be..?”

“You come with me.”

Once again, the Sin’dorei was beaten down. No, more like it was obliterated. His jaw dropped, words failing to even come to him. He now just stood in front of his warchief. Completely vulnerable. Vol’jin leant to the side, his chin resting on a perched hand. He simply stared as he waited for an answer. But he couldn’t help but start smiling. Straightening himself out, the elf took a long, deep breath. He stared the troll dead in the eyes. He opened his mouth. And the noise that left it was just a strong indication of his confusion of the proposition. The troll merely tilted his head.

“I hope that isn’t too much to ask. But if it is, then I understand. I simply thought to ask because, well…” Vol’jin trailed off, his eyes skirted around the floor. Trying to act innocent.

“Because…?” Lor’themar urged the troll on. He wasn’t about to just let him be coy now.

“I felt the feeling was mutual.” He said softly. “But I understand if this is just a one-sided thing. I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable, friend.” The blood elf would be lying if he said he didn’t feel anything tug at his heart strings a bit. He held his tongue, trying to gauge whether or not the troll was simply fooling around. But that gentle smile never left his face, nor did he start laughing at this supposed joke. “You needn’t worry about my terms, Lor’themar. Your offer is appreciated. I’ll go to this villa wi-”

“I’ll go.” Lor’themar interrupted, much to Vol’jin’s surprise. He was always courteous enough to allow others to finish before speaking up himself. “I never knew you felt that way towards me. For the longest time, I thought it was purely one sided to me. But now knowing that you share these emotions as well,” he took a few hesitant steps towards the warchief’s throne. “Perhaps I was merely convinced you would find interest in another.” The troll sighed. Rising from his seat, he bent down as was the custom among the men of his tribe, and looked Lor’themar deep in his eyes.

“If you would be willing. Let us take this time away to see what will blossom between us.” He placed a hand on the elf’s shoulder. A warm feeling fluttered inside the Regent Lord’s chest. Silently, Lor’themar nodded. A hand fell on Lor’themar’s should, giving a gentle squeeze. Vol’jin looked happy at the elf’s answer. “I’m glad. I was hoping for a chance like this.” He rose again to his full height, pulling the Regent Lord out of the mere moment where he felt they were on equal levels. If they were to find out “what would blossom”, Lor’themar questioned in his mind how such a height difference would hinder some more intimate bonding. “If it’s not too much trouble with you,” the troll spoke, slightly amused at the elf’s attempt to stare up at him. “Can we part by the end of the day? I wish to be gone before Sylvannas or Gallywix show up for a surprise meeting.”

Within the few short hours, the Banshee Queen was stomping her way down the halls of Grommash Hold. Bursting through the doors to the throne room, with Nathanos in tow like the lap dog he was, only to be greeted with a lone Sin’dorei. 

“Where is the warchief?” She demanded, menacingly approaching the elf, looming over them in a threatening manner.

“I apologize, but Lord Lor’themar has instructed me to not reveal his whereabouts.” The Banshee’s face soured, she stared down the elf who refused to flinch from their spot. “If it is of utmost importance you can direct all your concern towards Baine Bloodhoof, as he is acting Warchief until Vol’jin returns.” A furious growl came from the Forsaken leader, and she turned to storm out of the room. Nathanos glared daggers at the elf, who only shrugged in response. “I’m just doing my job."

Though night had already fallen, Vol’jin stood on the veranda of Lor’themar’s private villa that overlooked the sea. He was impressed that the elf was able to hide this place away from prying eyes, and to a greater extent his allies, for so long. But to his credit, many probably wouldn’t look on the small plot of land on the other side of a mountain. In the dead of night, Eversong woods was peaceful. The only sounds he could hear was the fire crackling in the torches, the gentle lapping of waves on the shore, and the light footsteps of one Regent Lord coming from behind. Vol’jin turned to see Lor’themar in something very casual. A simple red and gold silk shirt and pants, forgoing shoes as he was in his own estate, and carrying a goblet in each hand. The troll barely saw the elf in anything but his armour, but seeing him now, he could see the outlines of the strong body Lor’themar had built over the years of leading his people. 

“I know all of this is probably too extravagant for some tastes. But I hope you’ll be able to unwind while here.” Lor’themar smiled at his warchief, handing him one of the goblets. Vol’jin happily accepted it, and looked into the red liquid. He took a deep drink, finding it only to be a red wine. He let out a satisfied sigh.

“Your villa is lovely, Lor’themar. Thank you for putting me up here.” His friend joined him by his side overlooking the ocean. He quietly sipped his drink as he stood close to the troll. Though this was all for Vol’jin, he couldn’t help but feel at ease standing next to the towering man. He would press his luck, and gently lean onto the troll. Vol’jin side eyed the elf, feeling a warmth bloom in his chest. He’s so close, I could take him here. Words echoed in his head. Patience he told himself. He would see how far the elf would want to go. Let alone see if there was something between them. His arm snaked down and, like it had a mind of its own, wrapped behind the elf and rested on his hip, holding him close. He took another drink of liquid courage. As did the elf.

“Perhaps we should retire for the night?” Lor’themar spoke up, a blush covering his cheeks. The troll grunted in agreement. And yet he didn’t withdraw his hold from the elf. “The master bedroom can be yours and I’l-”

“Sleep with me.” Lor’themar was halted mid sentence. He looked up to the warchief’s face, seeing a slight streak of purple across his cheeks. The troll cough and cleared his throat. “I mean… it would be an honor if you would share a bed with me.” The Regent Lord swallowed the lump in his throat. Gingerly, he wriggled his way out of the troll’s grasp and took him by the hand. With a gentle tug, he led Vol’jin through the archway behind them and to the bedroom. The room in question was dimly lit, and well prepared for the guest. Silk curtains covered the windows and were draped across the bed. Vol’jin couldn’t help but note Lor’thermar’s liking for silk. The two came to a stop beside the large bed. As of the troll’s surprise, it looked like it would actually be able to comfortably hold him. But that thought was quickly pushed aside as Lor’themar turned to face him. He looked down to the elf, who in turn found it difficult to return the gaze.

“How do you usually sleep?” the elf asked sheepishly. That purple returned to Vol’jin’s face. Admittedly in the warm temperatures on the Echo Isles, the warchief omitted any clothing when he would rest, but would that be moving too fast with the elf?

“Ehm, just in my loincloth,” he lied.

“I see,” Lor’themar commented. “I suppose I’ll do the same, to an extent.” He took a step back as his hands came up to unbutton his shirt. Vol’jin watched as button after button came undone, and his eyes widened as the shirt finally fell from Lor’themar’s form. The whole of the Regent Lord’s torso was decorated in a myriad of scars. He looked over each one in awe, something that didn’t go unnoticed by the one on show. “I fought many battles in my life,” he softly spoke up, “sometimes I wasn’t so fortunate to leave unmarked.” Vol’jin silently nodded. As a troll he was blessed with his people’s natural regenerative properties, and though it wasn’t something he took for granted, he was now seeing the aftermath to those without such powerful healing. He stepped closer and laid a finger on one of the larger scars on the elf’s chest. Lor’themar flinched at first, but was quick to settle as he felt the warchief’s gentle caress over the length of the scar.

“You are a fine champion, Lor’themar. You scars show your devotion to your people.” Vol’jin’s hand was placed on Lor’themar’s chest. He could feel the beat of his heart hasten. A pair of hands clasped over this. Even with two, the troll’s hand still dwarfed both of the elf’s. Lor’themar held onto that hand for a moment, feeling the heat the troll let off. It was so calming. Everything about this was so calming. “We should uh, finish undressing,” Vol’jin blurted out, waking Lor’themar from his small day dream.

“Oh! Yes. We should.” Lor’themar agreed, straightening himself up. Vol’jin had started to undo the straps holding on his armor. Piece by piece, leather, wood and bone fell to the floor in an unceremonious heap. It didn’t take long, but in a matter of moments, the troll was left in naught but his loincloth. Now it was the elf’s turn to gaze in awe. The troll was an odd mishmash of lanky and muscular. And even though Vol’jin was a combat hardened warrior who had seen many battles, there didn’t seem to be a scar on him. A few scratches and nicks here and there. But other than that, he was a pure image. Damn regeneration he thought to himself. But now it was his turn to strip down to his bare essentials. Figuring getting it over and done with was best. Hooking his thumbs into his pants, he pushed them down and let them fall to the floor. He stepped out of them and kicked them away. He stood in his briefs. Barely naked but certainly feeling it. He waited for Vol’jin to say anything with bated breath and clenched shut eyes. But he didn’t say a thing. Instead he simply took Lor’themar by the hand, and led him to the bed.

Together, the both of them climbed on top of the feather stuffed mattress, under the silken sheets. Vol’jin pulled Lor’themar on top of him. And he didn’t resist such motions, instead he allowed himself to rest upon Vol’jin’s chest. The troll’s arms wrapped around him as he rested his head down on the firm chest. He could Vol’jin’s steady breathing, as well as his beating heart. It was beating as fast as his. If not faster. A wild rhythm with every pump. With a meager wave of his hand, even though limited from his position, the fires illuminating the room went out. The two were left in darkness, the only light was the moon that barely leaked in through the windows. They didn’t speak. They just enjoyed the silence and the warmth they shared between their bodies. Slowly and surely, they both drifted off to peaceful slumber.


End file.
